Slow Education

I wrote recently about what I call ‘slow learning’ on the analogy of slow food. My idea is simple: the writing process is a more educationally nutritious alternative to the standardized test. Metaphors can only be pushed so far, but I think this one holds up well. Fast food, like the standardized test, is, among other things, a mechanized response to the perceived problems of mas society.

We don’t think in industrial terms much anymore, but the standardized test and the fast food restaurant are iterations of the assembly line. These technologies are obsolete. Workers don’t need to spend their days doing the same repetitive task hour after hour; civilization won’t end if we slow down– in several senses– and enjoy well-cooked healthy meals.

I just read a piece in which a photographer made a similar argument for slow photography and it got me thinking about how these ides might apply to online learning. The “fast education” norm would seem to suggest that we have to follow the latest technologies, as quickly as possible, in order to meet our students expectations and, perhaps, cognitive styles.

In online education, this means moving from largely text based systems such as I use now to systems that rely heavily on graphics, including both moving and still images. I wonder if we might, instead, argue that for a writing class a slow education, rooted in texts rather than images, and perhaps a little philosophically resistant to change, makes more sense.

The Future of Hyperbole

I had a professor once who, in criticizing the manuscript that eventually became my book, commented that historians of universities always see a crisis somewhere. I think that’s true, and I think that writers always have to be aware that in their pursuit for persuasion they don’t fall into an unnecessary hyperbole. The “crisis” trope might get you attention, but it also can distort.

I also think that the last three decades have witnessed profound changes in employment practices and funding that warrant the notion of crisis. So I left the trope in my book. On the other hand, I think that it is true that the emergence of new communications technologies has far too often pushed or pulled writers into unnecessary hyperbole. The solutions are not easily found.

One (subtle) example is, “Florida Virtual School: Is This What the School of the Future Will Look Like?” on Read/Write Web. The trope in question is, “the future of.” I can’t help but wonder if that phrase encourages less technologically enthusiastic readers to worry about the loss of the physical classroom. In fact, the Florida system maximizes flexibility without weakening traditional methods.

“The future of..” has an Orwellian ring, as if the future described was not about using technology to maximize potential but that Orwellian boot smashing individuality. I’ve heard more than one professor suggest something similar about new communication technologies. So I say we just drop that trope, “the future of,” altogether and try to create something more widely appealing.

Rhetoric

There’s a certain irony in the juxtaposition of the Martin Luther King holiday, and the discussions about the use of violent rhetoric, now often described euphemistically as a problem of “tone” or “civility.” We celebrate MLK, at least nominally, because he used language to reinforce the idea that political change– even revolutionary change– could be achieved non-violently. I don’t think anyone questions the effectiveness of his rhetoric. Words led to action.

Yet after a decade of violent imagery in evangelical right wing politics, too few seem able to recognize the emerging dangers that have arisen from a rhetoric that constantly draws on violent tropes. Not too long ago members of the Tea Party carried weapons to political rallies as symbols of seriousness. “We came unarmed. This time.” In the Arizona legislature, representatives want to allow students and teachers to bring concealed guns to school.

The idea of a simple cause and effect relationship between a violent assassination and this political rhetoric is a red herring. Even sane human beings are full of contradictory, even irrational motivations. The evangelical right, though, is not simply using violent imagery and language; it is openly calling for the expanded use of guns in the public realm, encouraging its followers to take up arms, to display them as warnings, and to use them if necessary. It’s not just words.